


Adrift

by Lady_Elwing



Category: Charloe - Fandom, Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Leaving, Longing, Too damaged for her, commitment issues, deep thoughts, fear & love, push and pull
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10618509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Elwing/pseuds/Lady_Elwing
Summary: Bass is leaving Charlie : does he truly want that? What about her? Did she want the relationship to end? So many questions... They will all be answered in three chapters.





	1. Rabid wounded wolf

The night was completely still. No birds fluttering about, no animal seeking shelter, just his breath coming in and out. He stared out into the starless night. It was still, too still.

He wished for wolves howling, for people tracking him down and trying to kill him. Anything but this silence. He hated silence. If only he could listen to some music or something to dull this harsh silence. All he had was his mind and those sounds and words he carried like precious trinkets in a treasure chest. They were almost as painful as the silence.

He could still hear her moans, her laugher, her every breath.  
Fuck. He was a loser.

He was the one walking away, why did it hurt so much? He had always believed that leaving was better than being left. But tonight, in this sweltering loneliness, he had to admit both were painful. and this pain, awakened other memories of pale bleak morning, waking up alone and hoping it were a nightmare.

He sat up. Nothing but darkness around him, nothing.

He had hoped it would hurt less... But it hurt more, to know that Charlotte was cursing him, or, to remember the flash pain in her eyes before she lashed out. _I should have known better. You’re just a selfish bastard. Too much responsibility for you? uh?_ He had earned a punch. His eye was still throbbing. At least he got one last touch.

He had always been selfish as hell. That’s why he let the whole thing start. She was so soft under his fingertips, so warm and inviting. Her lips quivering, her whole body whispering to him, drawing him in. One night, two nights… Months of sneaking around. Miles shooting him dark looks but avoiding him. And the ghost of Connor snickering. Stupid old man. What the hell did he think would happen? He could see the beginning even before it started.

She got attached, and he got attached. Fuck. He was just like a lost puppy… Give him enough care, food and caresses and he was attached till the bitter end. He rubbed a hand over his tired face.. He was Sebastian Monroe, most wanted, most hated, most feared man in the whole of what was left of the United States, probably of the world. There was a time remembering this was enough to bring his shield back up, and shove that damn heart deep into the darkness. But his shields were broken, and his heart was bursting through the seams.

It was her fault. He had built the strongest walls, no one was supposed to get in. But after Connor, after… the walls started to crack. He left for a while and came back, to find Miles building a family, and he was just there. Looking in from the outside. Miles with a child… How did it happen? He was his brother, his only family, only friend left on this world and yet he resented him. Miles who had made sure he’d never see Connor grow up, or who left him when he needed him the most… Miles, the Butcher of Baltimore playing house. Fuck. It was wrong in so many levels. Miles who had always snickered at the idea of having children had found his way to a brand new family. And him, Sebastian Monroe, the idiot who loved too much, was left with no one.

And Charlie had grazed her fingers on the cracks left on his walls. The pain was unbearable, and she made it bearable for a while. He was no longer out in the open. He was almost safe, her own walls had grown over his, like vine and wild woods. Oh yes, he was sheltered.

One night he woke up sweaty, next to her. She was still fast asleep, her back against his side, her hair tumbling over him. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to move away, but she turned and her face was now nestled against his neck, her cold nose and fingers digging into him. He had dreamt of that night in New Vegas. Connor and Charlie. He could still see them, naked, glowing with satisfaction. What was this for her? Would she shrug him off once she was all satisfied? Would she push him away like trash? He could feel blood pounding in his head. Too many questions, his heart was speeding up too. He was trapped, and, once more, he would wake up one morning lying on the ground, chocking because of the smoke, walls and roof going up in flames and nobody to help him fight off this inferno. Tonight he was still next to Charlotte. She was still here but for how long? How long until he was like Connor, someone she thought about with a sad smile?

And he was lying there, wanting to hold her close... To keep her safe. To make love to her, to trace his initial branded into her skin. To wake up, every morning, with the racket of her early morning clumsiness. He was becoming needy. Clingy, even. And Charlie, with her Matheson spirit made good natured jokes about his gestures. Mathesons didn’t need anyone, they were made of steel. They could survive it all without even trying. It was pathetic, really : he needed her more than she needed him. His amazon, his shelter would keep on going, she wasn’t one to bother with growing roots. Or maybe she was. Was he a distraction? A painkiller or something that had caught her attention, for now. No, Charlotte cared. She cared even when there was nothing to gain from it.

She wasn’t Miles, not even Rachel. There was an abundance of love in her eyes, tears that fell for others. A younger version of him would have taken the plunge without hesitation. Loving was easy, back then. Now.. Now it was a constant fear. They all leave, or die… Vanish. Leaving him like a rabid wounded wolf, howling and howling to the memory of a once full moon.

Since that night, he had slowly started to pull away. Ignoring her long heated gazes, looking at everything but her. Never letting himself slip, never letting himself melt. The more she clung, clawing her nails into his skin, the more he pulled away. He wasn’t leaving, he was already gone.

No, he couldn’t afford it. He could still smell Shelly’s blood in his hands, the cool earth over his family’s grave. The smell of his own flesh burning after the Republic. Connor’s stupid cigarillos. Smells that even woke him up from deep slumber and tore into his skin.

And now, far far away from the Mathesons, he could still smell Charlie’s skin and her hair.  
It was easier to leave, much easier.

He sighed loudly but still, only silence answered his call.  
He’ll be fine. In time, she’d become only a memory locked in a box deep under the earth. And now, nobody will even try to see what was left of him, underneath the rubles and the ashes.

Deep in the darkness, he’ll find the strength to build himself up again; enough to find himself a war where he will finally find peace.


	2. What are you living for?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Monroe is gone, Charlie is left to her own devices. Of course she has Miles but Miles has his own family. Charlie's POV.

Charlie kicked the bucket as hard as she could, but, there was no satisfaction, only pain. She had probably broken her toe.

“Ok, kiddo?“ Miles was coming out of his door. It was still strange to see Miles living in an impeccably clean house smelling of lemon and fresh herbs. He had even taken up strumming a guitar in the long summer nights. Aaron had laughed and said he only needed a flower crown and he could start a cult. Even now, with her throbbing toe and the emptiness inside of her, Charlie found it hilarious to see Miles wearing a clean shirt. It was easier to laugh about him than consider that he, the Butcher of Baltimore, had found something she couldn’t even think about.

“Yeah. I guess.“

They hadn’t talked about it.  
Bass had left a few months ago, actually : seven months, three weeks and two days to be exact. But they had never spoken about it, except Miles muttering something about Bass taking his best steed. She was sure her uncle, had known about her ongoing affair with Monroe. It was way too late for him to tell her about the flowers and the bees. Talking about feelings wasn’t a Matheson thing, certainly not a Miles Matheson thing. This is what she told Heather every time she complained about Miles not being good at communicating his feelings. Two words that really didn’t fit Miles... At all. But then again, she hadn’t ever thought about having to see him become a father either.

The three of them, the only surviving Matheson & Monroe clan, had moved to the Sylvania Estates. At first, they all lived in Charlie’s old house until Miles found Heather. Charlie let them have her old home, and built her own cabin next to his. It felt too strange to live in her old home and yet feeling like someone else. Bass rented a room somewhere but most of the time he crashed at her place, feeling out of place on Heather’s plushy lavender scented couch. And then he left.

Her mom was dead, Connor was dead, and Bass was gone. Except for faithful Aaron, and Miles, most of the people who had made her family were long gone. Maggie. Nora, her grandfather… Dad, Danny. Such a long list. The girls in the village had tried to befriend her again. Some were old friends, but most of them were beaming strangers. They were warm, kind, and bubbly, wearing dresses, talking boys and babies. She had avoided them like the plague. It was too hard to pretend, to come up with something to say when her nights were still heavy with nightmares and flashbacks of all that she had seen.

She spent most of her time hunting down surviving Patriots and landing a hand to the sherif, Miles. People had grown tired with fighting but she didn’t know how to do anything else. Recently, she had been stuck in the village. She had injured her shooting arm. Somehow it had gotten infected but it was growing better. Soon she’d be able to leave, and keep her mind occupied. The village doctor wouldn’t be hard to convince. He didn’t care whether she lived or died, he was more interested in the simple folks living here : babies had to be delivered! Charlie was just an annoyance, why bother with a patient who didn’t care whether her arm was properly healing or not? Maybe she was becoming a worse patient than Miles or Bass had ever been.

Bass. Sebastian Monroe. The man who survived it all but lost it all.

She couldn’t forget him. And she knew nor could Miles.

“You need to rest Charlie.“

“I’m tired of resting.“ She picked up the bucket with her good arm and made her way to the well. Miles followed her without saying a word. She missed their time on the road, back when they had an aim, and she had hope. She missed that time before she found out about Rachel, and the whole story behind the blackout, when it was only her and Miles. Others had gravitated around them but Miles had been her pillar on the road to the tower.

Now? Well, she lived to kill as many patriots, rapists, and looters she could. She knew a normal person would care about Miles’ kid, her cousin, but she didn’t. It was just a child. There was nothing in his face or babbles that drew her in. And anyhow, poor kid, why burden him with a broken and twisted sister? She had blocked out Rachel’s confession about her biological father. It didn’t matter. Miles was Miles. He was her only living family, didn’t matter if he were her father or her uncle, or someone she had picked up on her long road.

Nobody knew about Rachel’s deathbed confession. Not even Heather. The only ones who did, Bass, Aaron, Miles and Charlie never spoke about it. Why would they? Niece, daughter… What was the difference? He’d always be Miles to her. Ben would always be dad. And she was an orphan now.

Nothing mattered. She pulled the bucket up from the well.. Without a glance for Miles, she went to her one room cabin.

“Charlie.“ Miles took the bucket from her hands and followed her to her house.“I mean it. You need to rest. You’re no good to anyone half dead.“

She smirked, keeping her bitter words for herself. Miles ruffled up her hair before leaving.

She was left with her thoughts. Slumped on the rocking chair that had somehow made its way in her house, she tried to clear her mind. Her mind kept on going back to that last fight they had.

Her time with Monroe hadn’t been soft and sweet. It was a whirlwind of fury and desire. It was rough, stark and sometimes painful. but it made her feel alive, feel like she was still a woman with flesh and blood.

Most to the time, she felt like one of those robot creatures Aaron had told them about when they were kids. A gun for an arm, an unbreakable shell filled with wires and circuits, made to kill. And to kill. And to kill. Nothing else.

But Monroe.. He drew her out, with his gaze. Made her feel her whole body flutter with desire. Made her want, quiver with need… Spatter and demand. And then he left her high and dry. Like she was nothing, like those words they had whispered in the darkness were just wisps of the wind. Fucking bastard.

Her nails dug into her skin and she bit her bottom lip. It wouldn’t make him come back. Nothing would. He was like a current of dark freezing water, shattering through the land, over the riverbank and destroying everything. She hated him.

She stepped out on her porch. They had often curled up here, on that bench, when the whole village was asleep. Just her, Bass and the night. She hadn’t bothered sitting down here ever since he had left.  
She could hear little Benny laughing at his own doorstep, raising his arms to be held by his father. Miles didn’t look gruff, he looked like someone she had never met before. Somehow it made her feel sick to her stomach. She should be happy that Miles had at least found some peace. Losing Rachel had brought him to the edge but it was strange that his solace came from someone who had never seen what they couldn’t forget.  
She leaned against her wall, her gaze flitting through the rest of the estates.

People were coming and going. War was dying down but it was still everywhere, people died of the common cold and yet she could see lovers, hand in hand, school boys and girls coming back from their long day of learning. People wanted to live and had something to live for. She missed feeling like that. What did she live for? Her mother would have pestered her about this, but she hadn’t bothered to stay alive either. Truth is, Rachel’s demise often felt like a suicide. Most of the time, Charlie was thankful her mother was gone. It made her feel more peaceful, and she could eve almost love her and forgive her now.  
The voices of those lost along the road were never truly gone.  
What are you living for, Charlie? She could hear Rachel asking her. Charlie? Danny would ask with his sweet breaking voice. Charlotte, Bass moaned.  
Why won’t they leave her alone when they were the ones who left her? Of course she knew what she was living for… It wasn’t something she could tell people from the Estates, nor admit aloud :

Take down as many patriots she could before she was killed in action. She lived to die, these days. To see him again? Nah she wasn’t sappy like that. She left this to the girls who made garlands for May Day. And those young brides with shining faces and fading dresses. Love was a luxury, it was something one felt but didn’t dare indulge. What would be the point anyway? Even the bruises on her knuckle had healed. She had kept picking at it, to remember how it had felt to punch him, and then punch the wall once he was gone. It was a luxury. And no amount of living in this serene place could make her settle down into comfort again. That’s why she had built her cabin herself, with the help of Miles and Bass. That’s why her furniture was almost falling to pieces… Why keep more things when life was only a passing thing? Permanence was an illusion, and she wanted to live in the light.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She’d be fine.. really. In time, the pieces of her shell will fall back in the right space. And once more, she won’t have to think anymore, or even remember what it was to have Sebastian Monroe panting under her, nor feel him shuddering with unveiled desire, nor taste his kisses bruising her lips, making her hungry.

No. She was slipping back into who she was supposed to be. All shelled up, behind a shield of metal and rock. She briefly remembered Duncan Page. Yes, they were made of the same iron. What the world needed right now were warriors to get rid of those damn patriots. Let those rosy cheeked women enjoy the gentle sway of that dance called love. Let them fill up the village with laughter and songs. For a few days, moments, seconds, she had thought she’d find her own song to sing… Perhaps not as sweetly and meekly as those spring birds. It’d be the roar of a mountain lion or the howling of a wolf. But that moment had passed, and she was once more Charlie Matheson : deadly with a crossbow and her daggers. Alone but strong. Feelings always pass, they are swept away by the wild fury of reality.

Whatever was there left to feel for, anyhow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Although the chapter was already written, I wasn't happy with it so I've been editing, adding and editing. I'm finally sort of happy with it. Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	3. Bring him back home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of my story. An event disrupts the Mathesons lives and forces Charlie to face her problems with Bass and her own life. What will be the outcome?

After Bass left, and the sadness dissipated bits by bits, one had to go on living, what was left was restlessness. After the intense upheaval in her life, Charlie no longer found any solace in mundane life. She even found it fascinating that Miles was settling in, like an old leather sofa. She couldn’t settle, wouldn’t settle. She was living up to the Matheson name, drinking all day and better with her weapons than her words. Little by little, ordinary life, as they call it, was making her numb, turning her loved ones’ absence into a habit. Missing her family was like groping in the semi-darkness of her kitchen to find at leas one full bottle of moonshine. Hunting down patriots, helping Sherif Matheson, drinking until she’d collapse into her bed, most of the time alone but sometimes with company that she would kick out in the middle of the night. The same old until something happened to break her numbness.

Charlie knew all about chaos, that was the world she was made for. It happened very fast : one day, Miles and Charlie had gone hunting together. The old man saying they needed to bond, Matheson to Matheson. It was nice, like coming home. But the smiles they were almost sporting disappeared as soon as they neared the village and Heather came running out of the door.

“They took him. They took Benny.“

Charlie could feel her heart hammering against her chest, Danny, they took Danny. She had to find him. Dad.. Dad was dead. Danny was dead. All of them dead. She was shaking, taking deep breaths. Fuck, this wasn’t the moment to have a nervous breakdown. Miles was shouting at her.

“Snap out of it. Charlie!“

“Yeah.. Yes. Tracks.“ She spoke the words loudly, making her brain jump back into the action. The past was gone. This wasn’t Danny.. It was a smaller defenseless child ; Miles’ kid. And she was the best tracker, born for the hunt, ready to pounce. She could feel the blood rushing through her body making her body tingle into action.  
She walked carefully around their cabin, ordering the others to stay back. After a few minutes, she joined Miles who was holding a whimpering Heather. She was allowed to feel, to cry, but Charlie wasn’t: and she wouldn’t want it otherwise. She had been trained and raised for this.

“Two tracks. One going to the North, and the other North East.“ Miles was nodding. He had let go of Heather. She could see his face changing. Gone was the campfire singer, the distracted half drunk dad and neglectful uncle. Here was Miles Matheson, General Matheson, the Butcher of Baltimore.

“The North East one is more muddled up. But I can still make it,’ offered Charlie.

“We’ll split up. since you’re the best tracker, go North East.“ He made a face that she knew very well. He missed Bass. She shook her head to keep her mind focused. Benny was in danger. The innocent child that she liked to ignore was in danger. Bass was gone. He was gone. This reminder was enough to soothe her mind back to the present. She rushed to her hovel to gear up, she already had her crossbow and gun on her, but she added a few knives slipped in her booth, under her belt and jacket. By the time she got back to the others, nothing had changed.

Heather was still sitting on the porch, Aaron comforting her. Her long time friend, her family, knew the drill. She pat his shoulder as she walked past them. They each had their own role to fulfill. They had learned how to serve each other the best. They were just missing one bit : a crazy psychopath who wasn’t afraid of death, whether it was his own, or, that of anyone who would come in his way.  
Yeah. It would have been easier if Bass was around. But he wasn’t. Instead, Miles was yelling at a bunch of awkward and gangly looking teens. She nodded at her uncle :

“All ready.“

“Murray and Hec..“

“No. We don’t have the time Miles. It’s going to rain…“ That was the last thing they needed. When would Miles learn that she was better off on her own? She made a hell of a team with Monroe but now that he was gone… She didn’t need anyone else. She didn’t want anyone else.

“Ok. You find anything, you hang in there. Follow them. Leave a trail for me and sit tight.“

She nodded, but he took her arm and looked into her eyes : jet black eyes that could unleash hell and could make a lesser woman shiver and shake. Thankfully, Charlie Matheson was made of the same inferno.

“Don’t try anything, Charlie. You just follow them.. Unless…“ Unless they were hurting that kid. Sure. She nodded. She was not very good at following orders. They both knew it, but it wasn’t like they had an army under their thumb. Just a couple of boys playing war. So many good men dead… And Bass gone.

Miles offered her a brief hug and no other words. She left the estate without another glance over her shoulder. Maybe she won’t come back this time but the thought didn’t make her halt her step, nor want to catch a last view of the estate. All she carried was an old memory of how it used to be, before Neville showed up. Now it didn’t matter where she was, in Texas or Mexico. Places didn’t matter, only people.

Charlie followed the tracks for days, the rain just behind her heels. The downpour started four days later, the same day she saw a group of men with a child rushing into the town of Mercy. She followed them into the city. Her legs shaking and her vision was swimming.,. Hadn’t eaten anything but a handful of nuts everyday. There was no time for her. Miles must have realized by now that he had been following the wrong tracks. She had to hold on at least until then.

She was hiding behind a shed, watching them as they were arguing with the innkeeper when she felt someone pulling her behind and a hand clamping over her mouth. Her hand went for the knife in her belt.

“Easy! Charlotte…“ His voice was hoarse, sending shivers down her spine. A sigh escaped her lips as he went on, “it’s me.“ It was him, it was truly him. Her body relaxed instantly. Even in the direst of situation, Sebastian Monroe had the knack to make her feel like she was home. But this was no time for homecoming or for even thinking about herself. She shrugged him off.

“You… You’re here?“ she whispered, her eyes darting from him to the group she had been following for so long.

“You look like hell.“ She could see a smile hiding in his scruff. And she couldn’t help but return the smile. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so hopeless anymore. All the dark thoughts she had been carrying on her back had dissipated. Bass was exactly where she needed him.

“You smell like you live in a bar. Listen, they…“

“They’ve got Miles’ kid.“ He cut her story short. How did this man always turn up at the right moment to save the day?

She opened her mouth to ask him how he knew it, but a quick glance to the group informed her that they were on the move. She nodded to him, he retuned the gesture. They slinked behind them. The innkeeper was leading them to a house. He bolted as soon as the unwanted guests had found their way in the house.

“Backdoor,“ whispered Bass. Charlie nodded.

“I’ll go from the front. You go from behind. They’ll probably have one guy there… or nobody. They think they pulled it off.“ This was a general speaking inviting no further comment or interruptions. In the same manner that she had seen Miles go from a drunkard to a general, this was no longer Bass. General Monroe hd taken charge without being asked to. Another time she would have reminded him he was no longer part of the team… Arrogant jerk. But she knew he was right, and what mattered now was getting Benny out of this house.

“They won’t be expecting any company,“ added Bass.

“How do you know that?“

“They aren’t hiding the kid.“

They were still crouched in the dirt, behind a couple of containers. She could smell his skin, feel his arm brushing against hers. He was really here, she wasn’t imagining it. She had missed him across her table, in her bed, but most of all, next to her in the fray.

“Are you sure you can take them all?“ He scoffed and she nudged him, “I’m serious Bass.“

“If we both come in from the front door, they’ll use the other one to run. Let’s go.. Better not give them time to settle down.“ His voice was hard and impersonal and yet it almost made her feel gleeful in spite of the dire situation.

Charlie nodded. She left their hiding spot to mingle through the crowd to the other side of the door. She could barely see him from her new hiding spot. It was strange how she didn’t doubt him for a second : she knew he would always have her back in a fight. He always did, even when she hadn’t asked him to. Being lovers or friends was one thing but brothers in arms? She trusted him with her life. She’d always trust him, that much she knew. She saw him creeping closer and darting to the door and heard screams. She armed her crossbow and rushed inside.

At first she couldn’t see in the dark, they must have drawn curtains or shutters. The air was thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she soon located Benny sniffling behind a chair. Everyone had forgotten about him. She didn’t blame them. Monroe had that effect on people. The little boy recognized her and crawled into her arms. One of the guys was blocking her way but even before she could lung at him, Bass shot him down.

“Let’s go!“

They rushed out of the house. There was a commotion, people had heard the gunshots but Matheson & Monroe were out of the town before anyone could notice them. They went on running until Charlie got tired of carrying Ben. They finally stopped at the edge of the woods.

“Charlie.“ The child was grabbing her hair. She didn’t want to feel relief. But she couldn’t help but hug him tightly to her chest and breathe him in. He was her cousin… brother? Family. Monroe was leading them into the woods.

“Let’s set up camp.“

“Miles. I’m.. oh damn it. He’s going to hate this.“

“What?“

“He told me to stay back until he got here. How is he going to find us? I didn’t leave any marker on our way here.“

Bass went back to the outskirts of the city to leave a sign on a rock. Miles would find it. When he came back to their camp, Charlie had lit a fire. It wasn’t the best thing to do but he could see the child happily eating the crumbs Charlie was feeding him.

He fished out dried meat he had bought a while ago, and gave it to them. He wasn’t hungry. His mind was buzzing and he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body.

“Thanks. I didn’t have the time to bring food.“

“What happened?“

It was easier to talk about this than talk about how they had left things nor the unforgivable and unforgettable words they had sparred with. She told him the whole story and after that they sat silently. Benny was asleep, his small hand in his sister’s hair. Bass told her about noticing a bunch of newcomers in the village he had been currently working in, behind a bar, and noticing the scared little boy. It hadn’t taken a long time to put two and two together : someone had kidnapped Benny Matheson. He had started to follow them, waiting for the opportune moment to snatch the kid back. He didn’t tell about noticing her following the group, how he thought he was hallucinating.. And how happy it made him to see her again, once he realized she was truly there. Maybe there will be time later to tease her about not covering her tracks well enough.

Bass missed having a watch, a phone, whatever, to measure time. It was impossible to tell how long they had sat there in total silence. But it wasn’t a real silence anymore, she was here. Breathing, moving graceful, staring holes into his skull. She was angry, he could feel her rage escaping from her lips. He could almost taste it, taste her. If it wasn’t for little Benny sleeping in her arms…

He wanted to say it ; that he had been wrong for leaving ; that he never meant to push her away, but, instead, he stared into the fire. There was no point, really. Miles would be here soon and he’d leave again, even if every cell in his body were screaming not to. He heard her shuffle closer and a hand tentatively covered his.

“I missed you.“ Her voice was soft so low… As if she hadn’t meant to let the words slip.

Before he could turn to look at her, her hand had slipped away, and she was averting her gaze. That was the thing; he never knew… She was undecipherable. One day she was gazing into his eyes with so much desire and longing, and the next she was fucking his son. One day she was holding him and telling him she had always wanted him, and the next she was reminding him that he was responsible for the loss of her whole family. Pulling him, closer and closer until he couldn’t breathe and then pushing him to tumble down into a ditch. Damn it. He couldn’t fall into this pit again, he couldn’t. There wash’t much left of him anyways.

“I’m not here for your games, Charlotte.“

“What games, Monroe?“ Her voice was sharp but her lips quivering. She was clasping Benny against chest as if he could protect her from him.. Sebastian Monroe the Monster.

“Uh.. So I’m Monroe now?“

She closed her eyes, when she looked up again the venom was still there but with glints of unshed tears.

“You’re the one who left.“  
“After you punched me and called me…“  
“Don’t make it like it was my fault. You’re the one who pulled away. You left.“ Her voice was hoarse. He had missed that rust in her voice, that she sometimes had when she was angry or moaning his name.

“Charlie?“ Benny’s soft voice was like ice cold water.

“Hey little buddy. It’s ok. We’re just talking.. Dad’ll be there soon.“ She pat his head. He nestled against her. She didn’t know what to do. She had hardly spent time with the kid. She knew that Heather didn’t want her around. And she was right. Benny was so young and he’d probably never know what she knew. Maybe he’ll make it out still good and kind, and soft. Maybe not, no Mathesons ever escape the bitterness in their blood. Even without the blackout, she was pretty sure she would have found a way to make her life crash and burn. Maybe Danny would have made it out whole… He was that good.

She looked into the fire, to try to get her thoughts away from the memories. All that was bringing Danny back into the world. That’s why she avoided little Benny like the plague. She didn’t need a reminder. Her whole body was a map of the long road she took to find her brother, and the one she took after he died. The path that led her to Sebastian Monroe’s arms. And he was no longer a memory : he was an unescapable reality.

Her eyes found their way back to his face. He was looking at her with a strange expression. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Why did you sleep with him? Connor?“ He winced as he said his fallen son’s name. And whatever anger she still felt was gone for now. She knew it would come back later, but for now she could only hear pain. A pain that echoed the many bruises that she still carried and who would never heal.

“I don’t know.. I.. I was lonely?“ She bit her lip. That was partly true : she had been lonely, feeling a deep desire to just… But it hadn’t been just that. Poor Connor. The only reason she chose him was because he was a Monroe. His son.

“Charlotte.“

She gasped. The way he said her name still made her shiver. It didn’t matter that her baby cousin, step brother, was half asleep in her arms, she could feel blood rushing through her veins, reawakening a fire that had been neglected for far too long.

“How am I supposed to say it now that he’s gone? You know why. You… know why.“

“Do I? I can’t read your thoughts… What do I know?“ He was driving her crazy with his low voice and his piercing gaze. Of course he knew it, the smug bastard.

“I’ve always wanted to you… Even when I hated you. And.. I was just… fuck. Don’t make me say it.“

He wanted to hear her say it, that she had been caring for him at least for as long as he had. Ever since they had escaped from the bounty hunters. He needed her to say it. To know that he was the one she had thought about with Connor. To know that she wasn’t going to drop him like she did Connor and other men. He heard a shuffle in the forest, he straightened up and cocked his head. Charlie nodded. He could hear steps. He picked up his gun, Charlie did the same.

Another step and he was aiming his riffle at Miles.

“Bass?“

“Long time no see, Miles.“

Charlie stood up and Miles cross the distance to take hold of his son. It was strange, to say the least, to see Miles acting like this. It wasn’t like he was incapable of love, but this… This was new. And even now, Bass found it weird as fuck. And from Charlie’s face, she found it equally uncanny. A few others guys he could barely recognize were crowding around Miles. Farm boys.. Thank whatever he had found Benny and Charlie or else, this ragtag would have barely stood a chance.

After a quick debriefing they were wolfing down bread and drinking. The words he had shared with Charlie were still lingering in the air, making the fire roar loudly, distracting him. He stood up, making the others stare at him.

“I’m going to check the perimeter. Charlotte?“ Miles shot them a wary look but he kept his mouth shut, his gaze dropping to his son. She stood up and followed him into the darkness. He kept on walking until he was far enough to have some privacy.

As soon as they were far enough, he turned around and pulled her against him, his lips finding hers; her fingers digging into his nape, her teeth bitting his lips. They pulled away breathlessly.

“Why do you want to know? It was so long ago.. a one time thing.“ She tried again.

She couldn’t see his face, there was barely enough moonlight to even see where they were standing. But she could feel his body tense and feel his harsh breath against her skin.

“You never looked back. Sure you were sad for him… But he was like nothing to you. Damn… You reminded me of Miles. The emotionless Mathesons. How do you guys turn it on and off, like that? I can’t do that.. I’m not like that. “

“I don’t..“

“And then you say stuff like you missed me... How am I supposed to believe you, Charlotte?“

He heard her laugh, it made his head pound. He couldn’t even see her eyes. Was she really mocking him? He had been right all along.

“You’re such a moron Bass.“ Her hands were around his knuckles, cool and soft. “What we have.. You and me, that’s something else. I’ve never had this before… A relationship? Connor... The other guys it was just sex.“ And she was quiet, she had let go of his hands he could feel her step back.

“Except for Jason. That was something else too.“ He could barely hear her but her voice grew stronger again, “Bass... You’re the one who pulled away. I was still there. I wanted to be there... here.. with you.“

He felt her fingers brush against his nose, as she tried to find him in the dark, and smooth the side of his face she had punched before he left.

“You really hurt me.. When you left.“

He was quiet. His arms found their way around her and drew her closer, his chin resting on her head.

“I’m sorry Charlotte.“

She pulled away again. “Will you come back with us?“ He knew she was doing her best to keep her voice neutral but he could almost taste her pleading : Come back, come back. Proud Charlotte Matheson never begged, that is, unless they were in bed.

“You’re all I’ve got now.“ She mumbled.

“Bullshit. You have Miles and…“

“I don’t. Really. Miles has Heather and Benny. Sure he cares about me… But it’s not the same thing. I think he can’t bear to look at me because I remind him of her.. Rachel.“

He wanted to disagree but he could remember how Miles had withdrawn from him. He was good at that. Miles was selfish when it came to love.  
And him, the shell of Sebastian Monroe? All he knew was how to care, always, too much, to the cost of his sanity. Could he risk it again? Like he did instinctively with his family? With Shelly at the end of the world? Miles and the Republic, his people, because there was nothing else left? Every single time, he fell deeper into darkness.

“You’re all I’ve got.“ He echoed her words.. It was the truth. There was too much blood under the bridge between Miles and him. If only he hadn’t hidden Connor.. If only.. No, he’d always care for Miles but it was hard to call him family. But Charlie... God... Charlie made him feel like an idiot, like a fool who still cared. He could feel her nestle against him. They had already merged into one, it was too late to walk away.

“We’re family.“ He offered again. She looked up, he could see her eyes glimmering.

“You won’t leave this time? Promise?“ There was no way he could tell her how much he loved her, no words, no action, nothing. But he understood now, in this pitch darkness, that the only thing he could do to show his love for her was by staying... In spite of his doubts, his self hatred, his ghosts, just stay next to her and let her in the whole way.

“I won’t. I promise you Charlotte Matheson... No more leaving.“

They found their way back to the camp, stumbling through the woods, kissing each other breathless after every few steps. Their hands were still entwined, there was nothing to hide anymore. They were together for better and worse, and couldn’t care less what others thought of it. Miles looked up. It was hard to see what he was thinking. There was a time they had been blood brothers, but now, there was forever the ruins of the republic between them. As Bass peered at his friend, he noticed a smirk. There wouldn’t be any problems there. Maybe Miles had known all along, and he found it amusing. Rachel must rolling in her grave.

They sat down in front of the fire, their legs touching, their fingers still interwoven. He was going home. There was no doubt about that. She wouldn’t have it any other way, and there was no force in this world that was a match against Charlotte Matheson’s will, certainly not Sebastian Monroe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to publish this last chapter before but stuff happened and I got sidetracked.  
> I hope you enjoyed this story. Thank you for the comments and kudos, as always they make me want to share more of my stories and make me smile.

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story that has been waiting to be edited. It's not that long, but I thought it needed to be separated in three chapters. Don't worry, they are all written. I will just need to edit them as I post them. I hope you will enjoy this story. In the next chapter, we will see how Charlie is dealing with Bass leaving.


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